Lamar was my partner for the weekend. He was Bella's oldest brother's best friend, and he was very enthusiastic about the retreat. Slightly fearful of his enthusiasm, I had found solace in the idea that I would have Bella to lean on... Bella was not coming. She had failed to mention this crucial information, until a few days before I was set to leave for the retreat. She thought her presence would impede my process, whatever that meant. And at this point in the game, I felt that it was too late to cancel. My ethics trapped me into a weekend retreat with a stranger. If I backed out now, Lamar would have little time to find a new partner.

      A 3-day, 2-night retreat by Lake Coliduff, I organised my suitcase and bags by my front door, awaiting the promised red Lexus. Arriving only ten minutes late, Lamar jumped out of the car, jogging to help me with my bags. Dreadlocks falling well past his broad shoulders, a white, half buttoned blouse hung loosely on his lean frame. White trousers equally loose, and beige sandals on his bare feet, he reminded me of Jesus. Strangely he was dressed exactly how I imagined someone who attended spiritual retreats would, while maintaining what most would consider a sexy look. He was the perfect representation of the surprise love interest in movies, their sole purpose to tempt the main character; to tempt them with their silky dark skin and sultry voice. But with my mid-thigh length jean shorts, Whatever Floats Your Goat orange shirt and unmatching underwear, I didn't feel like much of a main character. I felt like the comic relief character who had the misfortune of everything going wrong.

     "Hello beautiful," Lamar greeted, all teeth and hooded lids. His voice was as sultry as I expected, as if he made a hobby of drinking warm honey and reading poetry. Bella may as well have pulled him straight out of a romcom. Clearly, she thought if anyone could awaken my sexual inclination, it was him.

      Opening the car door for me, his Cigarettes After Sex playlist roaring through his Bluetooth stereo, he veered off towards the highway. He skipped over the small talk, jumping right into my thoughts of the retreat.

      "I have no idea what to expect," I admitted. I had been too chicken to even look up the retreat's website. Sometimes it was best not to know what you were getting yourself into. "Have you gone often?"

      "I go every year," he said, voice still poetic. Was I supposed to be speaking that way too? Was this whispered, melodic way of uttering words meant so set the mood for the weekend? "It's narley. Completely life changing."

      I smiled encouragingly, as if I were equally excited to experience what he had.

     He bopped his head rhythmically to Crush before speaking again. "My spirit was tickled the moment I heard your name," he confessed, sharing with me his most charming smile. "I can already tell it's going to be a great weekend. There's a connection, here. This," he gestured towards the air between us. "Is dope."

     I laughed awkwardly, toying with the collar of my shirt. Was it hot in here? Was this dope connection what was strangling the air from my lungs?

      "You have a thing for the name Yasmine?" I tried to keep the conversation light.

     If he confessed that Yasmine was his mother's name, I was going to jump out of the moving vehicle.

     "Yasmine..." he started; tone so dramatic that I feared he might actually break into a poem. "Named after the Jasmine flower. The flower of love and romance. A symbol of sensuality and passionate intimacy."

      That didn't sound like me. Blinking, almost with fear, I forced another nervous giggle.

     "Right," I coughed. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? "And does Lamar have some cool meaning."

      "Lamar means of the sea." He didn't even hesitate. Does he just casually study baby names' origins?

      "Dope," I experimented with his lingo.

     Lamar grinned. "Beautiful imagery, right?"

      "The Lamar sea?"

      He shook his head. "Yasmine and Lamar." He paused, the beat of silence serving as a dramatic effect. "The beautiful Jasmine flower and the sea. The stunning blooming white flower dancing across the waves. The flower blown by the wind, into vast waters, prepared to embark in a new journey. Prepared to give herself to the sea, to be guided by the flow of the crashing waves."

      Pardon my language but what the fuck? What kind of weird ass foreplay shit what this? I willed my eyes not to widen and my nose to remain still. I smiled tensely, trying to look as though I followed his vision. I did not. All I saw was a Jasmine flower fighting to stay atop the waves. Withering under the efforts of the battle, slowly it lost its petals, becoming undone. I imagined the petals floating aimlessly on the salty water, slowly parting, completely loss, no longer what the flower once was. It was not pleasant. It was not beautiful imagery.

      As he fell into the description of another metaphor, I snuck a glance at the GPS. Three hours remaining. This was going to be a long drive. My friends had really done it this time.

      Lamar eased up on the metaphors and I managed to survive the ride with no tempted drop and roll escape. We arrived just in time for supper, and I was eager to eat. Eager to give ourselves an excuse for a few quiet moments. The resort was beautiful. Cottage like buildings lined up on the beach, overviewing the lake. It was a perfect spot for a resort.

      I barely had time to gain my bearings or enjoy the view. A worker took our bags to our room, and then Lamar was guiding me towards the beach.

       There were no workshops tonight, allowing the guests to explore the resort on our own terms. Lamar thought it wise to use the time to dive deep into our spiritual minds. With meatball subs, curtesy of the kitchen, Lamar took my hand and kicked off his sandals in the sand. I followed his lead. I had always loved the feeling of sand under bare feet. Especially at this time of day, with the sun setting and the sand cool against my skin.

      We took a seat on the largest, lonely rock, feet dangling in the chilly water. The view was stunning. The water was calm, reflecting the bright setting sun and overlooking the mountains. It was peaceful; the perfect get-away.

      I half-expected more descriptive imagery from Lamar, but he was quiet. We ate silently, watching the soft ripples of the lake. We spent hours on the rock, waiting for the sun to set, not a word uttered, not a sound heard other than the waves crashing against the shore and the soft whispers of couples that had found their own private corners. With glossy eyes, Lamar steadied his breathing, meditating, far away in his mind. I tried to follow suit, tried to clear my mind. I was surprisingly at peace, content. For the first time that day, I thought the retreat might not be so bad.

      Anxiety returned when we headed for our room. Our SHARED room.

      "Two beds," I breathed out in relief, when he opened the door.

      Letting me go ahead, he nodded. "They leave the sleeping arrangements to the couple's discretion. Some build a better bond by using different beds."

      "Let's do that," I said, taking the bed nearest to the door.

      Lamar watched me curiously, but grinned, nonetheless. I was afraid he was getting the wrong impression.

      "Bella didn't tell you much about me, did she?" I guessed.

     Lamar shook his head, settling himself on the opposite bed, eyes still glued on me.

     How did I make this clear to him? I hated the social concept it entailed, but I couldn't think of any other word. "Virgin," I eventually summarized, gesturing towards the body he was looking up and down. "New to love. Not sure I'm into all of this."

     His brows rose momentarily, before his features relaxed, grinning as if he knew something I didn't. "I dig that," he sang.

     I perked a brow in disbelief.

     "Did you know in some religious ceremonies the Jasmine flower is used as a sign of purity?" he asked. "I see your purity. I dig it."

     Ah yes. As if my purity could be defined by whether or not someone had placed their meaty parts inside me. But a sparkly, plastic replica of the meaty part did nothing to affect my purity status. I'd hardly say Lamar was un-pure for having sex. I failed to hide the crinkling of my nose, but he didn't seem to notice.

     "I think it'll make our experience much better," he added.

     I tilted my head curiously.

      "Just like the two beds," he offered. "The separation, the holding off makes the final coming together that much more mind blowing."

      Ah, so this guy was definitely into edging. I think he would agree that edging is only pleasing if you eventually get over that edge. He would be in for a surprise. This weekend might not be what he expected.

      This Jasmine flower would not be deflowered at the retreat.